


a lot of starving faithful

by verulam (krynon)



Category: Borderlands
Genre: BDSM, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pegging, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4153629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krynon/pseuds/verulam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hadn't planned it, but when Nisha stumbles into Jack changing in his office, she's hardly going to turn down the opportunity. Especially when it turns out that Jack stores some implements in his desk for... special occasions. </p><p>"Down, boy." Nisha slams her hat onto his head and forces him down. He makes a choked noise of indignation, but he's not complaining- instead he stares up at her from between her legs, hat jarred off to one side.<br/>"Holy shit," Jack is gasping, heaving, gripping her thighs tightly. Yeah, he's definitely not complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a lot of starving faithful

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first (ever) F/M fic i've ever written and also potentially the most sinful thing i've ever written.  
> unbeta-ed and it's two in the morning, so if anyone spots any errors let me know!
> 
>  
> 
> WHOA VERY EXTREMELY NOT SAFE FOR WORK.

 

It isn’t planned, but Nisha is hardly one to forgo an opportunity when she sees one. She walks in at about midday- because she needed money, and Jack was eye-candy, and she’s not turning down an opportunity for a treat. Regardless, she steps over the threshold and it is absolutely uncalculated that Jack is busy pulling his stupid yellow sweatshirt over his head, no mask to hide his face. It strikes her as kind of odd that he’s getting changed in his _office_ , of all places, but then she supposes that very few people actually have unrestricted access.

Something venomous curls down deep in her chest and smiles at that, that of all of the hired hands he chose to give _Nisha_ unrestricted access. A pretty boy, for sure, but hardly a very bright one.

 

He’s struggling with the yellow bundle, arms trapped up around his hair in a rather unflattering position. The thrashing reveals his stomach- he’s broad, but not _broad_ , something to him that speaks of ‘desk-job’, still. He’s missing the holsters over his forearms, which is notable even more so than the delicate scars that he’s picked up only since they first met. If she had any… _ideas,_ there would be nothing he could do to stop her.

“Hello there, honey.” She purrs, perched on the doorway. He jolts from across the room, but pulls the shirt all the way over his head before he shoots a glance back. Before his eyes catch hers and she can visibly _see_ his pupils dilate, all the way from across the room, there’s a split second where he doesn’t quite catch her, doesn’t quite see beyond the gun at her hip. It’s cute, really.

“Oh, _hello._ ” And there he was, the Jack that she _really_ got on with. Built like a coiled spring, his mouth curled up into something dangerous and lascivious… She had to say, predator was a good look on him.

She takes a step forward, clacking onto the tiled floor, and _preens_ as Jack’s feet shift nervously to push the now discarded shirt under the desk. “What brings you here, Sheriff?” Despite his tremulous composure, there’s no tremor to his voice, tone as sly as his smile.

“Well,” She says, mostly to give her time to think about her answer; she hadn’t _planned,_ but Jack is stood stock still against the desk, and she is _notorious_ for giving into temptation. “That depends, Jack,” She rolls it around her tongue, and watches his tremor as she speaks his name, and that pretty much settles it.

She’s going to hold him down until he screams _“Ms. Kadam”_ at the top of his voice.

She breaks character, just for a second, crooning out the key question: “Do you _want_ it?” She keeps her voice delicate and dark, watches for his nod, and relishes it when there’s not the least bit of hesitance in it. Jack was just so much _fun._

One step forward over what could be marble tiling; Jack’s eyes seem to be trapped under hers. He’s like a little rabbit, desperate in headlights- except Jack wants to take control, she can feel it in her bones. But he’s _stuck_ , little sweet furry thing caught in a _vice._ Another step and he’s following her every move. She’s right up against him before she notices that he’s not even breathing.

He’s all tense tremors, still trying to pull himself up, posture high and straight-backed in a little attempt to assert his authority. That was hardly going to work with her, not in today’s mood- but still, it was cute.

“Can you explain to me, Jack,” He’s backed up against the desk completely now, trapped under the force of her not-touch, “Why, exactly, you were stripping in your office?” Her gaze seems to be enough to get him to buckle backwards onto the desk, and she glories that she’s not even touching him.

His breath comes in all of one deep gust, wrenched from him, perched up on the desk like some scared mammal.

She puts her lips to his ear, calculated and deliberate, just brushing the shell as she stalks his space- “Jack. I asked you a question.”

That’s all it needs and he’s up against her, kissing her with teeth and heat and force. He’s snarling,

“Don’t get _cocky,_ ” But as he forces their tongues together he breathes “Ms. Kadam” against her lips, and she knows that she has _absolutely lucked out._ He squirms against her, arms only a vice if she lets them be- she chooses not, kisses back brutally with all the force that she can muster, sucking and nipping and _biting_ , teeth a razor-edge against her tongue and lips.

Her smile against him is wicked and pointed, and with Jack grasping at her arms it only takes one step, thigh between his legs and he’s forced back up onto the table, wrenched gasp making it absolutely clear that her thigh had met his crotch- if it hadn’t been clear he was down for sex before, it was _now._

“Ah, honey,” She grasps one hand onto the side of him, clenching so hard into muscle that he winces, then sharply brings her hand to his crotch. “I wouldn’t-” she clenches her hand around him, relishing in his jolt and gasp “-question me, if I were you.” Her hand is tight, probably too tight for little ol’ Jack, who squirms beneath her only as much as she wants him to. She’s going to have him writhing in about twenty minutes, and with a man like Jack it hardly did to _rush_ things: she found him far more fun like this, watching him lose every inch of that brutal tyrant. He’s practically already falling apart about her, eyes clenched shut and arms still at his sides but only just _barely,_ fingers clenched into tight fists as she leans further into his personal space, hand a vice that was too-tight, too-much. She know’s because she’s done this before, made him talk, made him _break._

“Come on, Jack, answer your _mistress,_ ” and that’s curled and rolled around her tongue too, a sweet kind of old-world tobacco. His eyes fly open, glaring and moving again, forcing forward into her space as he regains his fire-

That’s what she loves about this. His stiff dick twitching at her fingers even as he rears up- a startled horse, maybe, ready to be broken but not pleased about it- and presses forward again.

The struggle is a lot less ferocious than last time, his hands clawing at her shoulders through a kiss. Their tongues fight and teeth clack- it’s hardly the most dignified, but his cock twitches against her palm, still in her grip, every time her teeth grasp at his lips. She lets herself be mishandled for the time being- Jack taking control only to have it ripped from him was _wonderful_ , made it so much more important to see him writhing. Her free hand is at his face, grasping as his face snarls but pupils blow to twice the size.

She’s busy trying to connect her the map of her pinches and bites to the sweet, harsh thrumming of his cock and the growing heat in her gut when Jack twists them around, whirling and pushing her back up onto the desk.

She grins, Jack’s dick impossibly hard in her hand. All she does is grip harder, watch Jack stutter and pause, breath blasting that arrogance out of him.

“Think ya got the upper hand, baby?” She wrenches him forward by the balls, preens as Jack yelps and stumbles forward, pressed impossibly and uncomfortably close. She wraps her arms around his neck, a facade of a romantic couple, and leans forward to his ear. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten, Jack. _Why were you stripping?”_ His breathe is stuttered, but he still doesn’t answer, opting instead to bite and lick at her neck.

She lets him, relishing the feel of it. He’s hot against her, cock hard against her thigh now she’s up against the table, tongue wet and leaving wet streaks against her. She grips her hands tightly into his hair just to hear his grunt, and is not disappointed. He bites at her neck, maybe drawing blood, and it’s enough for her to throw her head back. The stirring in her gut is something more, a beast of it’s own kind, bared teeth and a snarling want.

Still, she lets it go on longer. He’s still a thing of hers, under her control, and his cockiness is a show she will _adore_ dismantling later. Her hand is gripped tightly into his hair, the other searching his bare torso, gripping and scratching across his back just to hear him groan. His clever tongue licks thick stripes up and down the column of her neck, nipping and biting hard both, switching between something tentative and something tenaciously brutal, just the way she likes it- he knows her well, nips and draws blood under the side of her jaw. When he gets to her ear, and she can feel the roiling heat of her abdomen give way to wetness, she takes control again, hands steady as the wrench his head back away from her.

“One more time, Jack. Last chance.” She means it to be a command, but knows he will disobey it anyway, his hands still everywhere and hers still using his hair to maintain her grip. It must hurt, sting at the very least, and that Jack still can’t keep his hands off her speaks realms. “ _Jack.”_ He meets her eyes, glares, says nothing, the beast in her gut roaring and rearing and _reaching_.

And that’s that, she’s in control, she brooks no arguments, she pulls his head up and back and pushes, twirls them around and sits deeply into the huge chair that Jack never shuts up about. It’s a good look for her, to see Jack stood reeling in front of her, and when she beckons him forward with one finger, it’s not surprising that he follows her orders- it is simply what he _should_ do, with his blown pupils and crotch bulging at the seams of his pants, skin sweaty and bright against the light of distant space.

He doesn’t even seem to really realise he’s doing it, following her orders easy as breathing: he stops exactly where she wants him, stood between her legs.

She stands, just to examine him, just to watch him reeling and dazed somehow, but before she can even take stock he’s breaking routine and fighting against her _again._

It’s somehow more desperate than ever, tongue licking into her mouth like a defanged snake, something about “brute human” twisting about him and her both, hands clenching and grasping.

“ _Please.”_ He sounds _wrecked,_ gloriously so, something debauched and lost to anything but ‘Ms. Kadam’, and she _revels_ in it, feels it thrum through her. He _wants_ her in control, craves it like she craves his long torso stretched out beneath her. This time, she bites his lower lip hard enough to send blood dripping down his chin- she licks it away, places one hand on his cheek and _snarls._

 _"Down, boy."_ Nisha slams her hat onto his head and forces him down as she drops into the chair. He makes a choked noise of indignation, but he's not complaining- instead he stares up at her from between her legs, hat jarred off to one side.

"Holy shit," Jack is gasping, heaving, gripping her thighs tightly. Yeah, he's definitely not complaining.

She grins, tenses her legs around him just to watch his eyes snap away from her chest and up to her eyes,

“Take it off, Jack.” He pauses, maybe at the sound of her voice or maybe because he’s staring at her tongue as it licks her lips, “ _Now.”_ He scrambles to push her shirt up her body with hands frantic and eyes wide, dick hard enough against her that it must be really bothering him, but she keeps him down- hands solid on his shoulders. “Lower half. I won’t ask again.”

She doesn’t need to. She takes pity on him and lifts her hips as he struggles to peel the pants down her legs and keep the hat balanced on his head at the same time, delicate shoves with two hands, eventually resorting to yanking with one hand as the other clutches the hat to his head.

He looks _ridiculous_ , terrified to disappoint her, cock hard under his pants and tongue almost salivating _already._ It does more than a little to make her flood with wetness, big ol’ Jack trembling with anticipation at the privilege of putting his mouth on her. When he eventually gets them toed off over her bare feet, he doesn’t bother with removing her underwear, opting instead to kiss up and down her thighs. She’s wet, wetter than she’d thought she’d be for a tryst with no planning, and his kisses turn to bites almost as she thinks of how tender he’s being. She keens, moans and groans it out, rides through the sharpness and the deep itch that’s wracking her.

“ _Yes,_ baby,” She’s got the presence of mind to _purr_ it out, not let her voice sound like her moans, keep him working under her like a good acolyte. His nose and mouth get closer and closer to her folds, and she’s not afraid to admit that she wants him on her. As Jack nuzzles her through her thong, it’s pretty clearhe wants to taste her too, so she takes pity and catches his eye.

“Off, Jack. Now.” He’s not slow to answer, big hands pulling the thong over her thighs almost immediately. “ _Good boy.”_

He rears forward, but Nisha isn’t desperate enough to miss an opportunity to mess with him: she plants her feet onto his collarbones, legs spread and thoroughly blocking his way.

“Say please.” He almost snarls at that, which is sweet, because he is so completely under her thumb that it sends heat straight to her gut. And in the end, she doesn’t even need to remind him of it- he’s gritting his teeth as she relaxes her legs and slides her thighs against him as he edges forward.

“ _Please, Ms. Kadam.”_ It’s ripped from him, a pathetic little thing, so she spreads her legs open and lets him in, his tongue is out before he gets to her, lolling obscenely and dripping wet against her-

His tongue is quick and clever, sweet and sharp and darting- he licks her up and down, and she’s shivering under it. He’s always been good with words, good with tongues, and he’s not making an exception here, harsh angles of his jaw nudging her thighs as he nips lightly at her folds, sucking and laving. She’s already wet, but his saliva is everywhere, she can feel it- if someone walked in, they’d see something obscene, Jack bowed and bent and covered in her, mouth smeared with it, her legs broad and spread and trembling.

The idea of someone _seeing_ them is better, taboo and sour-sweet, so as Jack reaches her clit and is far too delicate for her liking, sucking and kissing, she starts to croon down at him, little dark, warm nothings:

“Baby, can you imagine if someone saw you like this?” Jack is more fervent against her even at that, attention devoted to worshipping her, long stripes and tongue darting, sucking at her clit, “Imagine, someone sees you, big powerful Jack, down on your knees and _worshipping?_ Little pilgrim, _devotee.”_ He moves, starts to ignore the rest of her and focuses on her clit, nuzzling and sucking at the tight bundle of nerves, and he is being _such a good pet,_ hot and sweet and all kinds of good, “Baby, they’d think I owned you, wouldn’t they? That you’d just up and given yourself to ‘Ms. Kadam’,” she has to bite back a fluttered breath, Jack’s nipping so lightly at her and she feels it arrow-sharp all the way through her spine, “Worship, _bitch_ , c’mon, damn _alter-bound_ ,” that she’s devolved into phrases and curses seems not to matter to Jack, but she pulls his head away from her with a jerk (she groans as his teeth catch her) and stares at his face ( _he’s covered in her)_ , pulls him up as she bows down to kiss him with teeth, heat so tight in her gut-

“ _Yes,”_ He’s wrecked, voice shaken as it could be, wracked with something even more than that devotion, so she rips their mouths apart and forces him down again.

“ _Down.”_ It rumbles somewhere hoarse and deep in her chest, power and ownership of little Jack, who’d given up _so willingly_ \- He laps, nips, pays attention where his tongue makes her groan out epithets of a Goddess faced with devotee, sucks so hot and so good against her, the tension in her gut so tight, rising up, she is so near that her voice runs without her,

“Sweet little toy, so good, _worshipping me, pledge your soul to it, c’mon, harder-_ ” and all it takes is for him to groan, vibrate against her, and her eyes are rolling up, world whitened to rolling and blinding nothing, legs tensing around him as he _keeps going_ , (she’s trained him well) and her hips jerking, bucking up and pulsing and he must be suffocating, she feels like everything has fallen away and the world has narrowed to the jerk and wave of Jack’s tongue and the sound of crashing nothing in her ears-

When she gently pushes Jack off of her, the twitching muscles of her legs still resting on his shoulders, she gets a little glimpse of his awe-struck face before he schools it into a sly smile. She’s _seen_ it though, knows that he’s _desperate._ The thought rolls around her even as her bones tense and roll post-orgasm.

“So,” he’s croaky at first, and she smiles broadly and with a malevolent edge as he clears his throat and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. It doesn’t help, he’s still _coated_ with her. “Have fun?”

 

His dick is _huge_ under his pants, but Nisha doesn’t answer his question because she’s just remembered which desk she’s sitting next to. It’s only a few feet away to her favourite toy, and Jack’s sweet little pilgrimage could hardly go _unrewarded,_ no no no.

She smiles, mouth wide and teeth showing. “You want a reward, honey? Think you deserve one?”

He seems to recognise that they aren’t finished playing yet, and she can almost _see_ him bite back a smartass comment by the twitch of his eyebrows under his scar. He clears his throat again, trying in vain to rid his mouth of the taste of her.

“Yes, Ms. Kadam, I would like a reward. Please.” And she has to say, she’s _impressed_. He’s playing the game well today, every inch her little saint. As far as one could get into sainthood with his mouth on her clit, she supposes.

She reaches over- slowly, so she can watch his face when he remembers what she left in the drawer on the far side that he never uses- and it is so _worth_ it when he does, eyes open with understanding and mouth twitching upwards in something like anticipation.

She yanks it out, no patience left- it’s a dildo, a thick, 7 inch purple thing, designed to strap right onto her and _stay there._ More importantly, it was Jack’s _favourite_ , and she was big on rewarding her disciples. Especially when they were as zealous as Jack.

“Hey, baby, you remember this?” She already knows the answer, of course, but it’s worth it to watch his pupils dilate and his jaw clench- his dick must be painful, stuck tight to his pants, and Nisha is pleased to note that they haven’t yet been removed. “Yeah?”

Jack is mute but his nod is clear enough, so Nisha gives him a pass for effort and grabs the little bottle in the draw. He doesn’t even move until she turns back, and barely even flinches until she says the word.

“Drop ‘em,” and he does, in jerky movements that make his discomfort and desperation clear. “Look at _you_ , Jack,” She purrs, stalking over and grasping him by the hair once he’s finished kicking off his pants. “Strap it on me.” He does it delicately, as if he’s afraid to hurt her- laughable, given the situation, and in reality just another part of the scene. It sends a shiver down her spine anyway, that Jack is so tentative, so delicate. He fastens the straps, looks up at her and blinks. “Big, bad, Jack, huh?” She grabs him by the head, forces him over the desk. She’s not careful with his head, and he hisses when it impacts onto the solid surface of it, squirming. “Not so terrible now, right?”

She strokes down his spine, watches his muscles flutter and sides twitch. He may not be the buffest guy she’s ever seen, but he’s broad, his flanks clearly strong- somehow that’s even better, that there’s _some_ physical power behind the man that she is so easily pinning to the table. “Not so much a boss, right?” When her hand reaches under him, clutches at his cock and rolls his balls in her palm, his groan is ragged and torn, “Shhh, shh, sh, sh, sh,” she massages his cock, filling it until it’s completely stiff again, and he’s so _loud-_ “Quiet, Jack,” the groaning doesn’t stop, so she smacks him smartly on his flank.

The yelp of pain and the twitch of him against her palm is enough to prompt her to do it again and relish the jump of his muscles. Today is not the day for that, though, so after a few more slaps (and one for _luck_ , his cock pulsing in her hand every time) she stops, coats her finger in lube instead. She barely gives any warning- Jack was so pretty when he was shocked, taken unawares, giving up and collapsed- so she jolts most of it in in one fluid movement. The rush of the yelps he’d given at the slaps pale at the jolt of pleasure she feels as Jack’s hole spasms around her cold finger.

“S-shit, Ms. Kadam,” His face is pressed tightly into his arms as she presses in another finger too soon, smooth but just too much for his sweet little hole. “Nngh…” No complaints though, and that’s what she likes to hear. She scissors, parting him open and spreading him wide as she can. He tightens indiscriminately, but he’s as hot as anything, hot and tight and deep, clutching at her fingers as they pull in and out.

Another finger, stretching him wide. The dildo was wide, certainly bigger than three fingers, so she scissors them all at once and hears him whine like something’s kicked him. “What was that, Jack?” But either Jack doesn’t hear, or he’s not ready to beg yet. Nisha takes that as a challenge, rolls with it as the possessive thing sitting in her gut rears again.

She crooks her fingers, searches for it- Jack _squirms,_ jolts and pants, but doesn’t beg. So one hand goes back to his dick, massages his balls and searches for that sweet spot she knows he likes, inside and out, praising him for being such a good boy, “Such a good boy, huh?” It’s working, she can feel his balls tightening, but- “Jack, honey, you want to be a good boy for me, right?” He’s yelping, whining against his arms with his face pressed deep into his arms. “You’ve gotta tell Ms. Kadam what you want, baby, just say the word-” But his words are muffled still, trapped against his arms.

It takes some maneuvering to twist him around, body facing up and legs perched over her shoulders, but the desk is the right height and Nisha is one to seize opportunities, so when Jack is finally in position she wastes no time in lubing up her fingers again, plunging them in and searching for that one little sweet spot, crooking her fingers up until-

“Angh!” _That’s_ the one, screams of something devoted and zealotic in him, so she reaches down for his dick and takes him in hand.

“What do you want, Jack?” She says it softly, because his hands are dropped to the desk and gripping tightly at its edges, not up around his face, and even though he’s pulsing and twitching in both of her hands, he _can_ still hear her, but _still_ he says nothing, deviating from script for nothing but _pride._

When she feels his balls tighten, his whole body rise and his muscles clamp down, she drops her hands, cuts off his dick with a vice-like grip and whispers viciously in his ear. “ _Beg.”_

He does.

“ _Fuck,_ Nisha, Nisha- please, please use it- put the cock in me, please- put your cock in me-”

And well, who was she to deny such… vociferous prayers?

She gives it a second, lets the uncomfortable clench of the failed orgasm sit in him for a second, before lubing up the cock attached at her hips. “Look, Jack, all open for me,” and she isn’t exaggerating: even without the extra lube he’d be loose, ready for her dick, “You want me to fuck you, honey?”

Jack’s tongue is loose, now, free with pleas and begging and desperation. “Y-es,” she plunges in, hits his prostate on the second thrust and all he can say is “please, Ms. Kadam,” and then he loses speech _completely_ , big, bad Jack without words or speech or any brand of bravado at all.

He jolts every time she hits it, and she has _very good aim_ , he almost screams with each thrust, and God, she could get used to this, Jack writhing on the end of her cock. Jack’s hips jolt upwards with every movement, and he’s such a good little devout zealot she takes pity, drops her hand down to his dick and jerks it in time with her thrusts, watching as he squirms and tightens incrementally every time, balls raising tighter and tighter until her hands at his dick hit the spot she knows is “Right there!”, and then he’s cumming, explosively and with a flooding groan. His whole body twitches, pulses against her hand with his legs jerking wildly around her neck.

He cums all over himself, and she wastes no time on his refractory period. She pulls out of him swiftly, wipes a hand through it all- it’s a mix of semen and sweat, she hadn’t even noticed that it had been so hot. When she puts a hand to Jack’s face- it’s probably the last time she’s going to get to dominate him so thoroughly in a while- Jack plays his part _perfectly_ , opens his mouth and sucks delicately on her soaking fingers until her face spreads into a wide grin.

Then, in a split second of something brutal, he grins back, and nips down on her fingers hard enough for her to drag them out of his mouth.

She pulls him up off of the table, and their matching grins look every inch the mark of quite an _excellent_ fuck, if she did say so herself.

  

Later, over what might be coffee but might also be something a lot stronger, she remembers to ask him about the whole thing.

“So, tell me. Why were you stripping in your office?”

Jack grins at her wickedly over the top of an ECHO device.

“My assistant told me you were coming up.”

  

 _Honestly,_ what a bastard.

(Next time, she’s going to catch him unawares, and it’s going to be _even better._ ) 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at: verulamion.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
